poem: Surrealists

para E.P.

 

My friend, if we collectively had any courage,

    we would both be surrealists

and offer the world, flat upon our palms,

        outstrestched,

the last vestiges of deferred dreams;

    a sample of how unendurable pain looks

from inside a tunnel with one window

      for light;

and the joy of bounding dogs, unmasked

    from the perspective of a wafting scent.

 

Through us should others renew their faith

   in miracles and demons both

We would walk tall

   sure in the knowledge

that our messengers always tell us the truth

       about such things.

 

Alas we are but human-

    and thus, still are learning

how to reflect that which is merely

   placed in front of us

   instead of what we see

        when our eyes are shut.

 

 

 

Reviews

[KAOlmsted]

It is always with a little breath of relief when I discover someone who has never read or reviewed me before and enjoyed one of my pieces is actually a very talented writer *laugh* This is exquisite, Marie. You have a very powerful and beautiful voice. Thank you so much for sharing this with us, and thank Diego for orchestrating this "meet" ;-)

This is a place to which I will return often...

-kimmer

[Marie Anzalone]

I have followed Diego and Emily both down some wonderful paths, and hopefully even reverse engineered a few meets of my own :-)

I greatly appreciate your kind words on my own work, and look forward to reading more of yours. I am in thesis and business start-up mode right now, and all of my creativity has been eaten by those two activities for the time being... but will be back during small breaks and then in May after I have heaved a sigh of relief so huge that they may just hear it on Jupiter, if not quite Saturn.

Wonderful making your acquaintance, my dear fellow Poetess.

[Nick.B]

An interesting poem, with a great message to it's background, love the last stanza, we are always learning something, nobody is perfect....great job

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for stopping by, Nick. Always learning... and we often forget that sometimes what we see in our minds is just as inportant as the "reality" everyone wants to drive home.

[Marie Anzalone]

*important

[Tree]

It really is painful to not always be able to express what one sees, I mean truly sees. It's funny because yesterday I was reading Lorca (whose writing I like because it forces me to see things differently) and today, I come across this. I think it was Lorca's pal Salvador Dali who said, What is important is to spread confusion, not to destroy it... or something to that effect. Another thought provoking piece poetess...

[Marie Anzalone]

I think as a visual arts person yourself, you get that frustration better than most. I think printed word is the only medium where perfection of vision can be almost achieved if the writer is talented enough. My artist friend wants to be a surrealist painter, and I want to try magical realism... and there is a switch in both our minds that simply will not let us maybe go there?

[Tree]

Good points, Raquelita. And I can see you flirting with magical realism in many of your works. My favorite book of all time (and I may have mentioned this to you) was 100 Years of Solitude; in it a whole new world opens up to the reader, a wondrous place that you would leave this one in a second for. I think you have to find that quite place within yourself on order to enter it, that magical realm... In retrospect my passion project skirts that realm, and I find that I can't work on it unless my mind is open to those "impossible possibilities'', you have to be in that zone....

[Marie Anzalone]

It is indeed a zone... and one I find much easier to access in Latin America than here in CT. Itis almost as if the Spanish language itself is more open to the other side, the other realms; hyperbole, perhaps. I have an easier time believing in a God when I am in Guatemala, at the very least.

Funny- I did love 100 years, but if Marquez I am almost more entranced by the quiet imperfection that is Love in the Time of Cholera. And wow, his short stories... and it surprises me not one whit that you are flirting with that realm yourself. I often try to file away quotes that sum up great truths in small packages... one that captures perfectly how I feel about the connection between those spaces where we can dwell on the other side, and our willingness to put it on paper, is this: "Guatemala does not really exist. I know, I lived there for 2 years." It is the opening line to novel that I saw somewhere and never forgot. When even reality herself is so far removed from anything we can call tangible in our daily lives, those lines blur so beautifully... the thing, dearest friend, is to let yourself believe that those places really ARE just as real. And when you figure out how... teach me. Please?

[Tree]

That world is real. And so is this world. But you said it perfectly, when those lines blur, it is really beautiful. And that's what I love about magical realism, when done correctly it give you the best of both realms; not hyper documentary downer real, and not fairlytale, either... Just the semi-sweet spot, right in between...

[Marie Anzalone]

Agreed. When the story makes you close the book and want to walk into it in your dreams... perfection.

[Tree]

I was drawn to your work today, poetess, particularly, this vine. Our shared appreciation for one of the most influential writers of the past 100 years, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, or ––– "Gabo", as he was affectionately known, has died. One year ago here on this vine we talked about his writing, his influence. A Nobel peace prize-winner, Marquez will continue to influence and spur the imagination of many people, as he has you, as well as myself, and now probably more than ever, he will inspire many many more,in death.

Be well, poetess.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you fo rthe visit, my esteemed and talented and insightful friend. Marquez' passing means a lot to our community here, as you can well imagine, I am sure. He influenced a lot of the culture, the beliefs, etc. of this place. I think he perhaps understood human nature greater than just about any other writer in living memory- his EQ was off the charts. For him as a human being, his passing to another dimension was almost a relief for me, as I cannot imagine how terrifying it is for one so gifted to be afflicted with Alzheimers. I cannot be sad for the celebration of life of one who moved us in so many ways- but I can be somber for thinking we may never again see the equals of the ones we are losing now: Marquez, Mandela, and the like. It seems like the world has gone and created itself as a space where great humanitarians will no longer be recognized. And THAT is an immeasrabke loss to us all.

Peace out, maestro. Feliz Pascua a ti y a los tuyos.

[Lydia]

Really great! I like it a lot! Really well done.

[Mark]

Great to see you posting again, my petite friend! Spring seems to bring out the best in you!
"To reflect that which is placed in front of us, Instead of what we see when Our eyes are shut..." This is the heart of the poem to me--the willingness to accept reality and circumstance over our illusions and imaginings. A regrettable but necessary concession to adulthood. How blessed are they who are able to convert their dreams into reality, and doubly blessed if those realities metamorphose into piles of cash! (a la Mssrs. Gates and Zuckerburgh!)

[Marie Anzalone]

mm dunno Mark... I think my intent here was more that I believe we as artists strive towards capturing the unseen messages behind everyday objects more so than the objects themselves, but often do not have the talent to put our visions into words? We are encouraged to "dejar" our dreams with age... but we also can choose to grow towards them.

[Emily B]

I"ve missed finding new words from you

but these are well worth the wait

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for your words, Emily.